The red jumpsuit was starting to look intimidating.
Jules had been staring at it for ten minutes while it lay on her bed. The New Year’s ball was tonight, and she had to get ready to go. She’d already made a start. Her hair was in a half updo. A smoky eye and a glossy neutral lip took care of makeup.
Vivian didn’t have to do anything so pedestrian. Her personal stylist had arrived, entered her bedroom, and departed two hours later. Vivian no doubt was getting dressed now. Her hair and makeup would be good enough that they could feature on the cover of Du Jour itself.
Meanwhile, Jules had smooshed and taped her breasts to hell and back, squeezed into shapewear for her ass, and all that was left was the jumpsuit.
You can do it, she pep talked herself. It looked great before. Sexy as hell.
Not that Jules needed to look sexy tonight. No need for that at all.
With a few wiggles and curses, Jules slid into the garment. Once she had it on, she tugged, fiddled, and adjusted until her boobs looked good but weren’t popping out. No mean feat, but she had to admit the end result was worthwhile. And when she added the jewelry and the shoes, she couldn’t stop a proud smile.
Hell yes. She might just be an assistant, but she was a hot one tonight. Hot in a classy, elegant way. Even Vivian couldn’t look down her nose too much at this.
Beaded clutch in hand, she hurried downstairs. In spite of herself, she felt the build of enthusiasm. At least tonight would be something different. She’d adapted to the routine of making phone calls, sending messages, and venturing out on the occasional errand. She’d adapted to…well, living with Vivian.
What a weird thing to make her heart race. Jules put a hand over her chest. She was probably just nervous about tonight.
As she dithered at the foot of the stairs thinking ridiculous thoughts, there was a noise in the hallway above. Vivian.
Jules’s heart started going even faster for some dumb reason, and sweat broke out on her palms as she waited to see her. She really must be nervous.
She heard the rustle of a skirt. A tread on the steps. Then Vivian finally descended into view.
Jules lost her breath completely and abandoned all hope of getting it back.
At formal events, Jules was used to seeing Vivian in darker colors. She looked great in them. While her dresses were never severe looking, the cut and make was always up-to-the-moment modern, not a single line or stitch wasted in unnecessary frippery or romance.
So Jules was not used to seeing Vivian in floor-length champagne silk with a full skirt that flowed down from an empire bodice. The color, which should have washed her out, instead matched her skin tone so perfectly that she almost appeared to be naked beneath a thin film of gold lace over the silk. The dress was low-cut, although not as much as Jules’s outfit. It was not the dress of a pregnant woman in her forties. It was…
Jules didn’t know what it was. Her heartbeat was painful now. Blood roared in her ears, and her whole body burned.
But she barely paid attention to that. Mostly she realized she desperately wanted to have sex with Vivian Carlisle, and it felt like every day they’d known each other had just been building up to this moment.
Jules had a horrible feeling of inevitability, of something falling into place just at the moment when she’d stopped paying attention and had let her guard down.
She heard herself say stupidly, “Oh.”
Vivian glanced at her, raising her eyebrows as she gave Jules the once-over herself.
“I mean,” Jules added, “uh—”
“Hmm,” Vivian said, still looking Jules up and down, tapping her lips with her fingertip.
Jules wondered what it would be like to kiss her, and immediately wished she could turn off her own brain.
Then, without a word, Vivian turned and left the kitchen, heading back toward the stairs. Jules helplessly watched her go, and only when the champagne silk had vanished from sight could she breathe freely again.
Holy God. Did Jules have a concussion? That could explain why her ears were ringing and nothing around her seemed real.
This was no good. Jules had to pull herself together. She needed more time, but she didn’t have it. So she took another deep breath, and when Vivian returned, Jules was able to look at her with her most helpful smile. Her lips managed not to tremble.
Vivian, who hadn’t become one iota less stunning in the last three minutes, held out a hand to her. Shiny things dangled from her fingertips: two earrings. They were made of hammered gold and shaped like leaves. “Wear these,” Vivian said. “They’ll complement your hairstyle.”
“Thanks, Vivian.” Jules reached out with miraculously steady hands to take them. They’d look perfect with her outfit.
Vivian looked at Jules’s shoes and moved upward until they were locking eyes. Jesus. Her eyes were so blue. Jules prayed not to pass out.
“Not bad,” Vivian said neutrally.
Really? At least Jules had been too stunned to feel self-conscious during the inspection. “Thanks,” she said again like an idiot.
Vivian hummed in response, then led the way to the hall closet while Jules concentrated on walking. Had her Jacquemus heels grown by a couple of inches? She hadn’t tottered this much in them before.
Vivian pulled out a fur wrap and an embroidered shawl from the closet. “Now,” she said in the tone of one giving a test, “which should I wear?”
Jules thought about it. “The shawl.”
Vivian looked displeased. “I would have said the fur.”
“I know.”
Vivian blinked.
“Challenge everyone?” Jules dared to add. Well, once you realized you were dying to have sex with Vivian Carlisle, nothing else could scare you anymore.
Vivian rolled her eyes, but she put the fur back and donned the shawl. Then she reached into the closet, removed Jules’s coat from a hanger, and tossed it at her. “Well?”
Jules snapped back into reality. Right. She could get through this. It was just one night, and there was no need to freak out about anything until she was safely in bed and had a few seconds to think.
Tonight was going to be utterly, completely, totally fine.